His For The Taking (6 page)

"Please, let me finish."
Bennett lifted his glass to his lips and emptied the contents. "I am more
than fond of you, Julianna. You make me feel happy and alive. You have entered
my life and made me want things I've never considered important before."

"I don't understand." She
stood, her hand coming to rest on her abdomen.

"You make me want to settle
down."

"Please Bennett, let's go
inside." She looked over her shoulder toward the house. "I'd like to
make sure my grandmother is well."

"Julianna, don't you like
me?"

Jonathan rolled his eyes
heavenward. The man sounded as if he were going to cry.

She lowered her chin. "Of
course I like you. You've made me laugh when I've felt like crying."

He set his glass down on the bench
and took her hand into his. "Then why are you running away?"

"I'm not…"

"Please." He kissed her
knuckles. "I want to marry you. I want to live everyday of my life making
you laugh."

Jonathan gritted his teeth. Oh how
he longed to slam his fist into the man. How dare he touch her in such an
intimate fashion.

Tears shimmered in her eyes.
"I-I'm not sure what to say."

"Say yes Bennett. I'd be
pleased to be your wife."

Pain shot through Jonathan's heart
as he watched. Bennett had her full attention, his goddess held the man's hand.
Looked into his eyes.

He turned away. What right did he
have to intrude on her happiness? He had his opportunity to have her, to make
her his and yet like a fool, he squandered the chance.

The dull ache of heartbreak had him
longing for a drink. Swallowing his bitter agony he walked to the far entrance
of the Manchester Estate. He'd toast the bride to be, kiss her on the cheek and
let her go.

But with a chuckle he knew better.
He’d not stand by and watch helplessly as she married someone else. Hell, he’d
grab her and kiss in front of the entire ballroom if needs be. By God she’d
know his true feelings before the night ended.

***

Julianna didn't wish to face
Bennett or Jane or even Grandmother. Too much was on her mind. She had told a
man who vowed to love her till death do them part that she needed time to
consider his proposal.

The look on his face stabbed at her
heart, for she never wanted to hurt anyone. And she especially didn't want to
be responsible for crushing such a spirit as Bennett's.

Pushing her way through the crowd
of partygoers that hovered by the open garden doors, she longed for the freedom
of the country. Wanted nothing more than to step out of her front door and be
able to breathe the fresh, clean air. Oh how glorious it would be to walk
unhindered down country lanes rather than fighting her way through busy streets
and poverty.

Tears burned her eyes. She wanted
to go home. To sleep in her bed at Oak Park.
To walk to town with Jonathan…

Reaching a refreshment table she
stopped. Did she truly wish to return to that life? A life so filled with
longing that it pained? Did she want to go back and sit beside Jonathan on the
settee, his muscular body so close to her that her core throbbed with unspent
passion? Did she? Or would she rather stand beside a man who looked upon her
with such love that she could almost feel its silky kiss?

"You're
so very easy to love, Julianna. Won't you let me
?" Bennett had said,
his countenance filled with such honest feeling that it frightened her.

Perhaps some day she could feel the
love she held sacred to Jonathan for someone else. Perhaps Bennett could help
her forget or at the very least move forward.

Her hand shook as she picked up a
flute of champagne. Putting the glass to her lips, she swallowed a mouthful,
the bubbles tickling her nose. Setting the back of her hand to her nose, she
sneezed.

"Bless you, Julianna."

She didn't turn to face the man who
blessed her. She didn't dare, for without looking, she knew who stood by her
side. She could feel his presence as if it touched her very soul. Dear God,
what was he doing here?

A chill ran across her flesh and
she drew in a deep breath. His subtle, yet familiar scent tantalized her
senses. If she turned to look at him, what would she do? Would she slip back
into the comfortable old pattern or tear his eyes out for hurting her the way
he had?

"I said bless you."

She closed her eyes and readied
herself to look into that familiar face. A face she longed to see in her unborn
children.

She turned and attempted to regard
him with the most impassive expression she could considering the rapid rate of
her heartbeat. "Lord Denbigh, whatever are you doing in London?"

"I had business to attend
to."

He was every bit as handsome as she
dreamt every night since leaving Oak Park.
Dark blonde curls, those glorious brown orbs flecked with amber and gold. Why
couldn't he love her? Why? And why was it so difficult to stop loving him?

"I see," she said,
setting the champagne glass down. "And was it successful?"

His gaze never wavered, the
intensity in his expression quite unnerving. Quite unexpected. Quite out of his
character.

"No. An abysmal failure."

"Pity. For knowing you as I
do, you'll no doubt be bitterly angry."

"Yes, but only because I
realized the problem too late." He finally looked away, his beautiful
mouth dipping into a frown. "If I had only seen what was right in front of
me all along."

She squeezed her hand into a fist.
What was he doing to her? Trying to coax her back into his velvet snare? To
return her to a friendship that stifled? The memory of his face that last day
in the garden. The anger, the loathing, the ease with which broke her heart.
"That's too bad for you," she remarked, her pride surging upward.
"I have had the most wonderful time in London."

His gaze jerked to her. "Have
you?"

"Yes, actually, I have. Coming
here has opened many venues for me and I have made new friends and enjoyed
every minute."

His eyes flashed with sorrow. Dear
Lord she hadn't expected that.

"And what of Nesbitt?" he
asked taking a step forward, one that had her moving away from him. His sudden
aggression left her anxious.

"He is a very good
friend…" her voice trailed off. What had changed in him? Gone was the
merriment she was so used to seeing in his countenance. Her heart slammed
against her ribs. Was that true sorrow? And the dark circles beneath his eyes,
and the way his usually well kempt hair now fell across his forehead, and his
suit…oh my! He was positively disheveled.

"How good?"

"That's none of your
business," she said, forcing herself to recall the pain he caused her.
Forcing herself to remember just how little she meant to him. My did it wound.

At the sound of the orchestra
tuning up, he shrank back a bit and lifted his hand. "Dance with me dear,
Julianna."

She stared dumbfound at his hand.
If she danced with him, she realized she would lose her battle. She could so easily
fall back into the contented rut she had been, for so long, happy to occupy.
"No," she replied, tears threatening to strangle her. "I
won't."

"No?" he said, the pain
and surprise in his expression almost had her allowing him his dance.

"No. I won’t have you ruining
my chances with Bennett." Dragging a breath into her lungs she stared into
his face. "Goodbye, Jonathan."

"No, darling." He leaned
in, his sweet breath fanning her cheek and sending a wild chill across her
already overheated skin. "Never goodbye."

And he smiled, the same wicked
smile she was so used to seeing in him. He was determined, but why? Why would
he care? What had changed?

Frustration pinched her gut, hard.
He was driving her to distraction. Five, not five minutes ago she was contemplating
a life as Lady Nesbitt and now, she was staring at Jonathan's broad back as he
easily made his way through the crowd and out of her sight.

She longed to chase after him, and
felt herself losing the well fought battle she had won.

"Do not grab defeat from the
jaws of victory," Grandmother said, her voice as welcome as a summer
shower. Soft, warm and refreshing.

"Whatever do you mean?"
Julianna replied, meeting Lady Chesterfield's compassionate, although direct
gaze.

"He has done what I knew he
would. He has come to London to
reclaim you," she explained, her brow lifted. "Don't make it easy.
Make him work a little harder for you."

"But you can’t mean to say he
loves me?"

Grandmother rolled her eyes.
"Of course he loves you. But he has hurt you. He needs to make amends and
he needs to make his love certain and his motives crystal clear."

"You mean marriage."

"Yes." Grandmother
nodded. "Nothing less."

Chapter Six

The best part of living at
Constance Whitcomb's townhouse was not the proximity to London
but the fine garden at the back. It was the one place she had found in the
entire city that was quiet enough to actually sit, think and be out of doors.
And she had been thinking there for the better part of two days.

Sleep hadn't come easy the previous
nights as she waited and fretted. What was Jonathan up to? Where was he and if
he hadn't meant the night at the ball to be their final goodbye, where had he
disappeared to?

Closing her eyes, she savored the
feel of the spring breeze against her face. It was a fine morning and with luck
it wouldn't rain for there was a picnic planned at the Manchester Estate and
she longed to see Jane.

Of course, Bennett would be there
too. Oh my, what was she going to tell him? Would he understand her confusion
and indecision? Somehow, she didn't think so.

"Julianna." Grandmother's
voice echoed across the small courtyard. "The Duchess has sent word that I
am to come to the estate at once."

Julianna pushed herself to
standing. "I'll just get my things and come too."

"No, no. You come later with
Jane and Bennett as planned. You explain to them that the duchess needed
me."

She slid her gaze to her
grandmother, the woman's face alive with her excitement. "Can you imagine
the duchess wanting my opinion on what she should wear?" She lifted a
missive. "She said that my turban was stunning and she would like my
council on what gown she should choose for the picnic."

"That is wonderful."

"Isn't it though?"
Grandmother replied. "So, I'll see you there in a couple of hours?"

Julianna smiled. My but it was good
to see grandmother so very happy. "Yes."

"And you wear your silver gray
gown, all right?"

"Yes grandmother."

"And there are silver combs in
my jewelry box. You are welcome to them as long as you don't drop them in the Thames."

***

Julianna stepped out of her morning
gown and stared at the smooth lines and gentle flow of her silver gown. It as
by far her favorite.

She would give herself a sponge
bath and dress. Bennett and Jane would arrive in just over an hour and she definitely
didn't wish to keep them waiting.

At the sound of her bed chamber
door opening, she turned to face her ladies maid. Surely, she knew to knock and
when she opened her mouth to scold the girl, her heart sped to a maddening
pace.

"Jonathan, what are you doing
here?"

He stepped boldly into the room and
shut the door, leaning against it, his gaze boldly taking in her form. "My
god, what I've been missing," he mumbled. "You are a goddess."

She reached for her robe and
hurriedly covered herself in the pale pink fabric. "You need to get
out!" she shouted, taking a step back, her legs colliding with the
dressing table. Perfume bottles, hair brushes and her hand mirror protested her
sudden movement. "Who let you in? Where is my maid? You shouldn't be here.
We-we shouldn't be here alone like this. It's improper."

"No, what's improper is you
shunning me." His dark eyes grew even darker.

"Shunning you?" she
asked, her voice rising with the question. "I did not shun you, you chose
to cast me aside without a second thought. You charge in on your horse, kiss me
and exclaim that our kiss meant nothing."

"Did it mean nothing to
you?" Jonathan asked, his hand on the key, he gave it a quick turn,
locking them in the room.

"What does it matter
now?"
Make him work for you
, her
grandmother's voice echoed in her head.

He deposited the key in the pocket
of his brocade vest. "It matters a great deal. It's all I can think
about."

She placed her hand to her breast,
trying to quell the zealousness of her racing heart. "Really?"

He took another step closer.
"Yes. It woke me from a deep sleep. Forced me to see you for what you
really are. And the night of the ball. I didn't tell you how incredible you
looked. How the very sight of you sent my blood scorching through my veins. How
I longed to hold you in my arms."

"Jonathan," she sighed,
the grip on her anger ever so slowly giving way. Could she trust the feelings
his words evoked?

"Julianna, I've danced many a
dances with you, seen you a million times but I've never truly looked." His
voice quavered just the slightest bit and with the words a chill chased across
her skin.

"What does that mean?"

He took a step toward her, his body
but inches from hers. "What do you think it means?"

She opened her mouth to answer but
no words would come. The attraction between them sparked, the air around them
suddenly swirling with excitement. He leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers.

She yielded to the pleasure of his
unexpected kiss. Longed to feel more, to taste more. Her heart soared as her
anger vanquished. Was this a dream? Or was Jonathan Denbigh truly kissing her
not to prove he didn't love her but to prove that he did?